Mirror, Mirror On The Wall... Who Is The Most Foolish Of Them All?

You watch me as I sit in front of the mirror. Both of us are silent. I look into my make-up bag and randomly pull out a tube of lipstick. It is a bright coral that I loathe for three reasons: it is garish, you bought it for me and it makes me look pale.
I throw it against the mirror, hoping to break it. You sigh but remain silent as you watch me unravel. The lipstick slams into the mirror, then slides back down in front of me. It is mocking me. I want to cry but you are watching me.
So I pick it up and put it on. Still, you say nothing. I want to speak, but the coral lips remain silent. I stare at those lips that are mine but no longer belong to me. I desperately want to say something, anything but they remain painted shut.
You watch my face as I sit there hating my lips. You tell me I look pretty and ask me if I am ready to leave. I shake my head no. You get up and walk over to me. You bend down to kiss the top of my head, and tell me you will see me later. This time I watch you as you walk away from me.
This is the final time I will watch you walk away from me. I wipe off the coral stain and pack up my things. This time I will walk away from you.
No more coral for me. I'm switching to dusty rose.

Thanks For Making Me Feel Bad

Dear Sunshine Of Mine,

You are amazing. I could not ask for a sweeter, kinder, more generous, loving friend than you. In comparison I look like a grumpy, miserable old hag. Bleurgh.

But you are so amazing and I love you lots and lots. Here's to many, many more years of friendship... I know you'll continue to be the sweet, kind, generous, loving person that you are through the good times and the bad times. And I will continue to be the grumpy, miserable old hag in comparison. But I don't mind because I love you to bits.

This is dedicated to all my friends who have been by my side through the good times, and especially through the bad times. Cheers!

Stop And Go

I'll start giving again, once you stop taking from me.

I'll start sleeping again, once you stop keeping me up at night.

I'll start smiling again, once you stop making me miserable.

I'll start talking again, once you stop pretending to care.

I can stop giving, stop sleeping, stop smiling, stop talking.

But what is really slowly seeping the life out of me...

is that I can't seem to stop loving you.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 9

When night spreads her dark cloak upon the horizon, I sit by my window, holding my breath. I hope he comes. After last night, he might have given up on me. The ticking of the clock is maddening. As the hands spin the hours, I feel my hope fading.
I close my eyes and send out a wish, so that he might hear me. I open my eyes and there he is. That wonderful smile of his restores my spirits.
He enters after I open the window for him.
"I'm sorry."
"Wendy, you did nothing wrong."
"I've been thinking of you all day long."
He takes my hand in his.
"Come."
Still holding my hand, he leads me outside. I smile, happy to follow him.
This time he takes me to an island. It seems to be deserted as I see no signs of life. We sit on the sand. His hand has not left mine since the moment he held it.
We watch the waves roll up. I draw little circles in the sand with my bare toe. He looks down and grins ruefully.
"Perhaps I should warn you to bring your shoes next time."
"I think that would be good. At least we're not standing on rocks."
"Sorry again. I should have thought of it. But I was excited to see you."
"Me too."
We sit there, talking, until dawn. When the first splashes of pink appear on the dark blue sky, he turns to me.
"I should take you home."
I nod reluctantly.
We stand, say our goodbyes, and he sends me home.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 8

My mother and I are out running errands all day long. By the time I reach my home, I am so tired I can barely walk up the stairs. I clean up and collapse onto my bed. The second my head hits my pillow, my eyes close and I fall blissfully into a deep slumber.
I dream of him again that night.
He is trying to convince me he is real, and I just smile and nod. But I know the truth. I simply play along. It is only a dream after all. There is no harm playing along and falling into the fantasy in a dream.
As soon as daybreak arrives, I awaken. Instead of feeling refreshed as I should after such a restful sleep, I feel disoriented and confused. And disturbed.
Something is niggling at me from the deep corner of my mind. I try to shake it off as I get up and start to clear my bed.
I lift up my pillow. There is nothing there.
The sun reaches my bed and decides to rest there.
It all comes rushing back at me.
Peter, holding my hand and pleading with me. Me, nodding along with every word.
Peter, telling me that he is here for me, trying to convince me that I have been calling for him.
Me, finally tiring of these illusions and shutting him out.
Peter, holding the star in his hands as he leaves my room, disappointed.
Peter, leaving a trail of silver dust from my bed to the window.
Peter, the one I have been calling for in my dreams.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 7

I am awakened by the sun's fierce glare. I open my eyes drowsily and look around, expecting to see the sun nearby.
I am on my wooden bed, on my comfortable mattress.
I am back in my room.
Disappointment surges through me and I flop back on my pillow.
Had it all been a dream?
It must be. I nearly laugh out loud if not for the deep disappointment. How silly I was to think that it was all real.
I look around my pillow, thinking that the star must have been part of the dream as well.
Sure enough, there was no star.
There is a knock on my door, then my mother enters.
"Wendy, wake up. We have a lot of work to do today."
I nod and she leaves. I close my eyes for a moment and recall the memory of holding the star in my hands.
Ridiculous, really.
Well, it was time to go back to reality.
I climb out of bed and head for the bathroom for a shower.
My mother calls for me to hurry because we are running late. I have a quick shower and dress hurriedly, rushing out the door without making my bed.
Had I looked back, I would have seen a corner of a star peeping from under the pillow.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 6

I take a tentative step forward. Peter is watching me and smiling encouragingly. I kneel and touch the cloud with my hand. It feels like the softest silk slipping through my fingers. It feels real enough.

My earlier denial is quickly dissipating. This is real. I stand up and begin walking, then skipping across the cloud. I go as close to the edge as I dared to and look down. A city, alive with lights, is sleeping below me.

No, not a city. A whole country. How high up were we?

Peter comes up behind me. He gently places a hand on my back and nudges me forward a little. "You can sit there on the edge. You won't fall."

"Uhm, no. I'm fine."
He laughs. To prove his point, he steps in front of me and walks to the outer edges of the cloud. He sits and carelessly dangles his legs in the empty air.
I am still unconvinced. I am perfectly happy where I am. I sigh and lay down happily, enjoying the silky caress of the cloud on my back. I stare up at the stars for some time, before feeling my eyes grow heavy.
I try to call out to Peter to take me home but my lips refuse to cooperate. My eyes are barely open and I decide to just give in to the floating sensation.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 5

"Will you come play with me tonight?"

I hesitate. The star was a very thoughtful and special gift but he is still a stranger.

Yet, there is something so familiar about him. As if he is a forgotten dream from the past.

He smiles and takes my hand.

"Shall we?"

I nod. I feel sure that I can trust him. He leads me to the window ledge, holding my hand firmly in his.

"Close your eyes," he whispers to me. "And think of the one place you would love to be in right now."

I close my eyes and one image pops into my mind immediately. I frown because it is impossible. I try to think of someplace else, but before I can he is calling to me.

"Wendy, open your eyes."

I do as he says. As soon as my brain registers what I see around me, my knees go weak and I almost collapse.

Almost. I did not fall because he catches me quickly, holding me tightly.

"Peter." The name escapes from my lips. I am surprised. I repeat the name again, looking at him.

He smiles and looks pleased. "You remember."

I shake my head weakly. I still feel shaken and unsteady.

"Not real. A dream," I mumble.

"It is real."

"No. A dream. So long ago." I look around me, half in wonder and half in denial.

He laughs. "This is real."

I look down at my feet. There is no way this is real. It is just not possible.

My bare toes are touching cotton candy.

He lets go of me and sits down on the cotton candy.

This cannot be real. I must have fallen asleep while waiting for him.

He starts playing with the fluffy candy while I have this mental debate with myself.

How else can you explain how I'm standing on a cloud?

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 4

I awake the next morning with a smile. With the arrival of the sun, the star's brightness has faded but there is still a faint glow.

I find myself skipping about the house, which earned my mother's disapproving glance.

"A young lady does not prance about the house like a horse," she scolds me.

I bow my head in a show of regret at her reprimand, but I really bow my head to hide the huge smile on my lips.

The day seems to go on forever as I wait for nightfall.

Finally, darkness creeps into the house and it is time for bed.

I refrain from running up the stairs and force myself to take one small step after the other.

When I reach my room, I rush towards the window and look outside. The moon has come out, and the stars dancing, but there is no sign of him.

I am disappointed. I am surprised that I am disappointed. I sit on my bed and look at the star, which is shining brilliantly once again. I hold it and smile.

I am interrupted by a tapping. This time it is a welcome sound. I look up and, sure enough, there he is.

I walk over to the window to let him in.

"Who are you?"

"You know who I am. You have been calling for me."

I am thoroughly puzzled. He does not look familiar at all. And how could I call on a magical boy when I did not even know magic existed before last night?

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 3

Despite my mother's voice screaming warnings in my head, I walk over to the window. There is something so innocent, yet wicked, about his face that fascinates me. I lift the window and he enters my room.

"Hey!" I snap. The nerve of him! I was only going to have a look at what he held in his hand, not have him flitting about my room.

He stops right in front of me and opens his cupped hand. The angry words disappear as I look down.

I gasp as I see it. There in his hand is the sweetest, most perfect star. It was brighter than any diamond I had ever seen.

"Here," he moves closer to me. "This is for you. To show you that magic is real."

I am frozen. I cannot move. I cannot speak. I am absolutely captivated by the star.

He gently takes my hand and lifts my fingers so they fold around the star.

After an eternity, I finally find my voice. "Thank you."

He nods.

"But, why are you giving me this?"

"Because I want to see you smile."

He gazes at my face for a moment and smiles. Without another word, he leaves my room and leaves me alone.

I walk back to my bed and place the star next to me. I wonder if he will come back tomorrow night.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 2

I wake early the next morning, feeling refreshed. That immediately put me in a cheerful mood and I begin to go about my day.

However, by lunchtime the cheerful mood was slowly fading. The boy from the night before is persistently in my thoughts, just as he was persistently tapping on my window last night.

I try to push him aside. Unfortunately, this time, Miss Mclachlan was unable to help me block him out.

By bedtime, I am in a foul mood. I have a nice, stable life and am perfectly content with things as they are and this, this boy dares to invade my life? Who does he think he is anyway?

As if he knows that I am thinking about him, the familiar tapping invades my private rant. I turn towards the window. Sure enough, there he is, grinning impishly and looking a right mess.

"Ah, but what an adorable mess," a voice whispers unexpectedly.

The voice in my head.

I frown and watch him as he waves at me. I will not go to him. I am a sensible girl and I do not allow strange boys into my room.

He sees my sour expression and stops tapping and waving. He looks at me for a moment before flying away.

Flying? Hold on, did he really fly? But that's impossible.

"Magic." His reply to my question last night pops into my mind.

I shake my head and tell myself not to be silly. Magic only exists in books and in dreams. Not in real life. I walk back to my bed and climb in.

Just as I am about to turn off the light, the tapping begins again. I look up in surprise. I thought my sour disposition was enough to turn him away.

Apparently not.

He is gesturing excitedly for me to come to him. There is something cupped in the palm of his hand.

I think he wants to show me what it is.

I hesitate.

Do I ignore him again or do I walk over to him?

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 1

I'm looking out at the boy standing on the window ledge. He's tapping the glass insistently and is grinning cheekily at me. I'm a sensible girl. I'm not going to let some strange boy walk into my life like that.
But he keeps tapping away, eyes imploring me to open the window. I try to ignore him and hide beneath the covers. Tap, tap, tap. Oh, go away.
But the sound is really getting on my nerves. I throw back the covers and stomp over to the window, glaring at the boy. He stops tapping and starts waving, smiling cheerfully all the while. I lift up the window a little and snap at him, "What do you want?"
"Come play with me," he replies.
I'm ready to explode. "Are you insane? It's way past midnight! And I don't even know you!"
"I can bring magic into your world," he promises.
"How did you even get on the ledge?"
"Magic."
I slam the window shut and close the curtains. He immediately begins knocking on the glass again. I grab my iPod off the desk, crawl back under the covers, slip on the earphones and fall asleep to Sarah Mclachlan.

Reflection

I thought I was being quite cute and playful.
I was tired, I was drained, but I tried.
Then some innocent words cracked that already thin surface.
I was not quite so cute and playful anymore.
More like crazy.
A fork clattered loudly onto the floor of an empty restaurant.
One hand covering my face and the other groping wildly for a mirror.
To check for yet another imperfection.
Ah, how can I expect you to think I'm beautiful when I'm a host of so many imperfections?
You think I'm crazy because I would not let you look at me.
I can't look at me, why would I want you to look at me?
Go away.

There's nothing here.

Come Join The Charade

Truth Or Dare?

Three simple words... a game...

Accompanied by loud laughter and triumphant shouts...

Might as well have been a magical chant by a dark witch.

Those three simple words...
And I'm frozen with fear...
When it was my turn, I always chose Truth.
Because Truth was safe.
And Dare, the Unknown, was a risk.

Now I don't play Truth Or Dare anymore.

Now I play Dare To Face The Truth?

My Bliss

Time to stop for gas.
The gauge was just below the halfway point.
Oh, it will cost 60 I said.
50 he said.
I confidently raised it to 65.
He raised his guess to 55.
We both waited gleefully for the final outcome.
He went to pay.
I waited.
He got back in the car.
How much?
He said 57.
It stopped at 55 but he tried to push it up to 57.
Why?
So we both win...
57 is the halfway point between 55 and 60.
I didn't hear you say 65, I only heard 60.
Silly, but that brought tears to my eyes.
It was the best trip I've ever been on.

Clash Of The Two Planets: Venus Vs. Mars

Incidentally, Venus was the Roman goddess of love and Mars was the Roman god of war. Love vs. War. Hmmm... This excerpt I'm going to share with you demonstrates that perfectly. I was given this piece of paper to read by a friend. It's hysterical. I'm not quite sure of the origins of this excerpt or where she got it from. Anyway, here it is.


Here's a prime example of "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus" offered by an English professor from the University of Phoenix.

The professor told his class one day. "Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. As homework tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a short story. You will email your partner that paragraph and send another copy to me.

The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story and send it back, also sending another copy to me. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back-and-forth. Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely no talking outside of the emails and anything you wish to say must be written in the email The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."

The following was actually turned in by two of his students, Rebecca and Gary.

The Story
(first paragraph by Rebecca)
At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favourite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much, her asthma started aching up again. So chamomile was out of the question.

(second paragraph by Gary)
Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squad room now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about that the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17," he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit establishes. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off a bluish particle BEAM FLASHED out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.

(Rebecca)
He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for physically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel", Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out of the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspaper to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she wondered wistfully.

(Gary)
Little did she know but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anudrian mother ship launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through the congress, had left Earth a defenseless target to the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty, the Anudrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid Laurie.

(Rebecca)
This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.

(Gary)
Yeah? Well, my writing partner is a self-centered tedious neurotic! Whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh, shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some sort of other F****** TEA???! Oh no, WHAT AM I to do? I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels!"

(Rebecca)
A*****e!

(Gary)
B***h!

(Rebecca)
F*** YOU, YOU NEANDERTHAL!

(Gary)
Go drink some tea, w****!

(Teacher)
A+... I really liked this one.



That concludes the story. Hysterical, no?
Kind of makes me feel like doing a tandem story myself. Scott, will you be interested in joining me in my attempt to prove that not all girls agonize over which tea to drink and not all men are neanderthals?

I Do! I Do!

I was watching this show on the TV. I happened upon it while I was channel surfing [one needs to also exercise one's fingers], and it caught my attention.
I think it was called 'The Proposal' or something like that. Anyway, it was nearing the end of the show. The man ['The Proposer'] had set up a little 'corral' with a wooden table, etc. for him and his girlfriend to enjoy a glass of champagne. He had written a country song about their relationship and a woman with a guitar sang it.
After the song was over, he told her he had prepared a little game for her to play, called 'Needle In A Haystack'. Except, of course, it was a ring under the haystack, not a needle. So, girl finds ring, guy drops to one knee, proposes, girl tearfully says yes, guy slips on ring, yada yada yada.
Me getting all awwww on the inside and fighting the tears. [I am such a hopeless romantic.]
So, that was her perfect proposal.

My perfect proposal? I used to wonder about that a lot. I played different scenarios in my mind - moonlight picnic, balloons and rose petals, that kind of thing. I just knew I wanted something creative and thoughtful.

My perfect wedding? Thanks to Cinderella and all the other fairytale princesses, I wanted the whole perfect dress-perfect venue-perfect flowers scenario.

But that was then. That was Before Him. Before Him, I thought that I needed all those things to have a perfect wedding and marriage.

Now?

Cinderella can have her prince and carriage. All I need are... the ring, him, my family and the beach.

Hey, in my experience, you can never go wrong with a BBQ by the beach.

Her Place

He doesn't need her.

He has his family.

They give him everything he needs.

The things she wants to give him but cannot.

He doesn't need her.

He has his friends.

They support him and understand him.

They're always there by his side.

Just like she wishes she could always be by his side.

He doesn't need her.

She can't give him the things he needs.

She can't give him the support he needs.

She is the one who tries to get in.

She is the one who stands outside.

She is the one who doesn't understand.

She is the one...

Who is walking away.

Speak Softly Or Not At All

"What can be said at all can be said clearly; and whereof one cannot speak thereof one must be silent."     - Ludwig Wittgenstein -

You asked me why I was silent.

Why I chose to look out the window instead of speak to you.

You thought that perhaps I was angry or upset with you.

Or that I was unhappy.

When, in reality, nothing could be further than the truth.

I'll tell you why I was silent.

I'll tell you why I looked out that window instead of speaking to you.

I didn't choose to stay silent because I was angry or upset.

Or because I was unhappy.

I stayed silent because I didn't have the adequate words.

I stayed silent because the English language doesn't have the adequate words.

To tell you everything I was feeling at the moment.

So, I stayed silent.

I stayed silent not because I was angry or upset.

Or even because I was unhappy.

I stayed silent...

Simply because I had no words.

Oriental Wonder

A few years back, when I was still a student in Swansea, I joined this thing that was a social network website. It was on the recommendation of 'A' [since we were doing the long-distance thing, he thought it would be fun to chat there instead of on regular MSN or Yahoo, for some reason that seemed to make sense at the time]. Anyhoo... it turned out to be a dating website. So I got loads of... "What are you doing here then if you're already in a relationship?" Erm... because my boyfriend told me to?

Anyway, I had my picture up on the site. So, one day I was just surfing through people's profiles and a man sent me a private message.

Man: Hi. Are you Oriental?

Me: [What the poof? Am I Oriental... like noodles?]

Me: [Curiosity piqued, which was the only reason I deigned to reply.] Erm... sort of.

Man: That's wonderful!

Me: [Rather taken aback at this display of excitement over my ethnic origin.] Oh... thanks.

Man: I'm so glad to meet you. You know what they say about Orientals? Of course you do.

Me: [Actually I didn't.] Erm... that we have good food?

Man: No. Oh, come on. You must know?

Me: Actually, no. Do you mean that Orientals are quiet and submissive? [Getting a bit peeved by now.]

Man/[TOOOOOOOOT]: No! That you Orientals are great in BLEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP! I'm sure you must be too.

Me: [You twisted, prejudiced joirk!] [What I replied to this has to be edited out.]

That was the first time I've ever been referred to as Oriental. Usually, if pressed, I just answer that I'm Asian. Methinks that TOOOOOOOOOOOT has watched a little too many mature films.

Ah, well. There's always a first...

But prejudice does tend to land one in uncomfortable situations, yes?